Page 79 of Gravehouse

Lifting his glass, Asher keeps his eyes pinned on me over the rim. I need to move, need to hit something. Need to get out of this chair before I combust or turn this into a blood dinner.

Stretching my legs under the table, I knock the pointed toe of my heel into Asher’s shin.

His eyes narrow at me, his hand pausing near his mouth.

Reaching for my wine, I smile sweetly. The room shrinks to that inch between his leg and mine, my stomach pulling tight.

A second later his foot drags slow along my ankle.

I almost choke.

Everything happening around us blends into nothing. Khloe is saying something to Daniel. Aléia is answering Elea with enough annoyance it’s the first thing I pick up, and I don’t even know what Atlas is doing because I don’t give a fuck.

Levelling my stare, I keep composure. “How’s Camille?” I ask Asher, because apparently I’m committed to making bad choices tonight.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Camille answers, most likely giving me her dirtiest look.

I wasn’t talking to you. I just need a distraction.

Asher’s mouth shifts like he hears the thought. “The same.”

I slide my foot farther and jab him harder in the shin, but his knee parts and his hand disappears under the table, catching it.

Oh, absolutely not.

Twisting my foot out of his grip, I smile into my wine as I drive it forward again, this time slightly to the right just in case he decides to try to dodge me again. It lands with a loud thud, and he jerks back.

Motherfucker. Okay. I need to leave.

“Ivanya?” Aléia’s voice drags me back. “It’s a shame you and Asher don’t get along. We could really do with your… expertise in Dovecrest.”

I don’t know what the fuck she’s talking about, but I file the word for later.

I’m about to ask more questions when Asher cuts in. “Khloe.”

The table goes quiet for the hundredth time tonight, and Khloe snickers under her breath, hooking her arm through mine. “Come, let’s go raid big brother’s expensive whiskey and dance naked on OnlyFans.”

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

ASHER

I waituntil their laughter and footsteps disappear, turning to Daniel with a nod.

He pushes to his feet, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair and excusing himself.

The muscles in my neck tighten. I crack my head to the side, swirling whiskey around in my glass.

“You good?” Atlas asks, swinging back on his chair.

I clench my teeth.

“Hey.” Camille places her hand on my arm, something she’s been able to do all night, but this time my head snaps to her.

She winces, removing it, and I go back to sipping my drink.

“Asher, I think?—”